


Object Orbit

by ArwenLune



Series: Object Permanence [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Badass spypeople relationshipping, Everybody Needs Hugs, F/M, I Believe in Jasper Sitwell, Nick Fury Believes in Sitwell Too, Nick Fury Feels, Takes place during Cap2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/ArwenLune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She'll want to see him first."</p><p>Damn right she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"She'll want to see him first," Maria Hill said.

Natasha blamed it on the blood loss that it took her long seconds to realise who the 'him' in that sentence referred to. When she was in the same room as him, as _Nick_ , as the man she'd allowed herself to mourn for precisely an hour, all she could do was sit numbly at the foot of his bed.

She was torn between looking at him, looking, looking, _looking_ , because he was _alive_ and _talking_ and her hand still carried the touch-memory of the dry, cooling skin of his head under her hand, and running from this room. No, not running. A steady, measured pace with the door closing at a controlled click.

She felt raw and open, nothing of her usual poise, and he'd done that, the fucker, he'd taken that from her. He showed her how to drop her shields and be small and soft in his arms, and now she was here and she thought he was _dead_ but he was _here_ and she needed her shields, she needed to be Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, and she just _couldn't_.

"'sides, I didn't know who to trust."

It felt like a second bullet, like nails over her exposed nerves, like bleeding out through all her pores. They had never put a name to the thing they had – the thing where they spent a lot of their free time together, where they took tango class, where she curled up against him, where there was the patient, affectionate harshness that she craved, followed by cuddling. Where sometimes when she couldn't sleep he'd read to her. They had never given it a name.

Even now there were plenty of people within SHIELD who mistrusted her, who could never get over her past. Nick, she had always thought, was not one of them. She'd trusted him utterly, and she'd thought she had his trust in return.

She let Sam help her to her feet and support her, and she was about to leave with the others when Nick called to her, voice low and tired.

"Natasha. Stay a moment?"

It was more a request than it normally was.

She didn't really want to. She felt too raw and open. She wanted to find a quiet, safe corner and curl in on herself. The Winter Soldier, her mentor, her lover – the single positive memory in all her long Red Room years - had been Steve's childhood friend. Before he'd been broken, programmed, experimented on, put in stasis, and reprogrammed over and over again.

And Steve would want to rescue him while Natasha didn't know if he could be saved. She was already steeling herself for the killshot she knew she might have to take. Steeling herself for Steve never looking at her again, even if that shot would save his life. It seemed like she was always going to lose the people she grew attached to.

She'd hesitated too long, because Sam apparently took it for agreement to stay. He released her so he could go and give her privacy. Give _them_ privacy.

When the guys were gone she stayed just inside the door opening, leaning against the wall. Well out of reach. Nick gave her a look that she was too tired to decipher.

"You didn't know who to trust," she finally said softly, her voice hoarse. She hadn't known she could still hurt that much, but if anybody could hurt her, it was Nick Fury.

"Please come sit," he said softly. "I'm too tired to speak up." She didn't really want to be closer, but she was exhausted, wobbly with blood loss, and the painkillers the doctor had given her were kicking in. She needed to be off her feet, so she complied and sat down by his bed.

"I'm sorry I put you through that," he said once she was sitting. She just looked at him.

"It was in the protocols for this kind of situation, so Hill followed it. I knew when I wrote it that if there was an attack on me, you would be watched," he said slowly. She wasn't sure if he was struggling to speak or choosing his words extra carefully. "I think it was necessary, but I am sorry I let you believe I was dead."

He turned his hand, palm up, to lay on the bed in front of her. She looked at it numbly, seeing the anchor that had kept her tethered to her new life. Every time she had threatened to come adrift over the past seven years he had reached out his hand to her. Given her trust. Given her Clint and Coulson. Given her a mission. Given her black ink to balance out the red in her ledger. Given her pieces of himself – access to his quarters on the helicarrier, his house keys, the request to water his plants. Given her the chance to be an Avenger. Given her a leaflet for a tango class and a raised eyebrow.

She had been so close to getting on a plane, after saying goodbye to his body. A plane to anywhere. Some place where she could deal her pre-SHIELD brand of destruction on demand. Only Steve's presence had stayed her.

"Say something, Natochka," he said softly. If this had been anybody else, she might have considered it pleading. He sounded exhausted, still so weak. He really had almost died.

She let herself slump forward, curling in on herself until her forehead rested on the mattress against his hand. She knew what he hoped to hear, what would help him sleep. 

Natasha was a chameleon, able to be different things to different people. To intuit what was wanted from her, what was needed, and give it. This, here, with Nick, was one of the very few places she made herself think about what it was she wanted, what she needed. She tried very hard to only show him real things, even though it was often still a struggle to work out what those things were. Forgiveness though, was not one of those things right now.

"Я тебя ненавижу," she muttered into the sheets. _I hate you_.

He didn't say anything, but lifted his hand and rested it on the nape of her neck, warm and solid and _there_. Natasha felt safe for the first time in days, and without meaning to, fell asleep where she was.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick only barely remembered to hide his reaction to seeing Natasha – and seeing her hurt, at that. Maria knew what Natasha was to him, but hardly anybody else did, and he needed it to stay that way. Especially Rogers, because Rogers was going to need the Black Widow for whatever was going to happen next, and Nick didn't want to risk tainting her by association with the mistrust he knew Rogers still held for him.

From the moment he'd woken up he'd struggled to concentrate on anything that wasn't her. His protocols had worked as he'd intended, which meant Natasha already thought he was dead. They'd never been explicit about the positions they took up in each other's lives, but even in the cold light of day, even without flattering himself, he knew it would be hard on her. It would always have been hard to lose him, but with SHIELD crumbling around them and without Barton and Coulson around to ground her...

Seeing her walk in – seeing her bleeding, pale, shocked and so, so betrayed – made his chest squeeze painfully. They'd had something together, something meaningful even if others might not necessarily have recognised it like that. With the people they were, and with what they could allow themselves to have, the relationship had been one of the most important things in his life.

He hoped he hadn't thrown it away when he wrote in the protocol that she was not among those who should be informed if he survived. When he tried to sell Rogers on the necessity of faking his death, he saw Natasha flinch at the suggestion he hadn't trusted her, and his heart sank. He also worried; she had to be nearing the end of her reserves if she was allowing that much emotion to show on her face.

Maria and the few trusted analysts they had with them would be working through the night to prepare the algorithm that would purge SHIELD's database – or at least enough of it to seem like it was all of it. The emergency signal to all undercover agents – the signal that they were about to get burned – had already been sent, so by the time their missions went public they'd have had time to extract themselves. He hated exposing people, but given the circumstances, 12 hours to get to safety was the best he could give them. Some of their covers would go public, but the algorithm would protect their real identities, and thus also their families.

He hated this, hated admitting that there was no saving SHIELD, that to purge HYDRA they would need to burn his life's work to the ground.

Their impromptu meeting coming to an end, the new guy, Wilson, helped Natasha up. Nick hoped the guy appreciated the trust he was being afforded. It was a little startling to see Natasha lean so trustingly on somebody she'd only known for a few days.

He was struggling with a betrayal far greater than he'd expected, his entire organisation, his life's work, crumbling under his feet. He'd known there was a HYDRA presence – two years ago he'd asked Sitwell to infiltrate with the few low-level agents he'd suspected of being HYDRA. But Sitwell hadn't known the full extend of the HYDRA presence either until the Lemurian Star, and by then it had been too late. Everything was falling apart, crashing to the ground and the best he could do was surf the wreckage as it fell - but this little part of his life he could still influence. He needed to fix this.. or at least try to apologise, or he really would have lost her.

"Natasha. Stay a moment?"

She looked like she wanted to refuse, but the moment passed – or maybe it was inertia. She looked dead on her feet, and he knew the doctor had given her something against the pain. Staying might simply be easier than moving.

He did what he knew would have shocked a lot of people – he apologised. He could feel himself fading fast, exhaustion and medication dragging him down, but the least he could do was get the apology out.

 _Are you still with me?_ He wanted to ask, watching her stare at his hand. _Is there still an us?_ _Will you still take my hand?_ He sighed with relief when she dropped her head onto the mattress, forehead pressed against his hand.

Her accompanying words in Russian were harsh, but he remembered how long it had taken her to feel secure enough of her place with SHIELD and in his affections to express anything negative or critical. That she said this at all meant something in and of itself; Natasha only gave real emotions to people who mattered to her, who she considered worth feeling exposed for. He understood her meaning well enough – _I am angry, I am hurt, but I am here with you_.

He laid his hand in her neck, that familiar warm curve that fitted so perfectly under his hand, and he vaguely wished he had breath and energy to read to her, to feel her hum and soothe to his voice. At least there was the possibility that he'd get to do it at some point in the future. Smiling at the thought, he finally allowed himself to drift.


End file.
